


let us love without any thought (let us love without thinking it over)

by bleuboxes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Muggle, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Miscommunication, i kno this is a rare pair but i love the dynamic, this was also suppsed to be like 1k... rip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:01:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25149634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleuboxes/pseuds/bleuboxes
Summary: Petunia lies on her bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking only of Sirius Black and his charming smile, his pretty face, and his lazy, drunken kisses.OR: Petunia kisses Sirius Black and deals with the fall out.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Petunia Evans Dursley
Comments: 10
Kudos: 41





	let us love without any thought (let us love without thinking it over)

**Author's Note:**

> so i should be working on my like 245249583 wips rn (esp the outlander one) but i re-read a bookmarked fic with these two and i just. could not stop writing this. it was supposed to be a short little 1k thing to keep me satiated but that obviously can't happen. 
> 
> whatever. 
> 
> this is for sequoia who told me not to sleep until i finished this last night (2 am gang !) and for telling me that even if its bad it doesn't matter. 
> 
> title comes from the song twenty-two by thea.. excuse the errors; i edited this in the car and i have a headache.

Petunia sits in the back of the uber between her too-drunk older sister and their roommate Marlene. Their other friend, Dorcas, makes friends with the driver – who, Petunia gathers, is a pleasant sort of man hailing from Oklahoma. What he’s doing here, on the east coast, is beyond Petunia (as she wasn’t able to hear that part of the conversation). Petunia is trying hard to focus on something other than her own brief nausea, her sisters iron tight grip on her hand, and Marlene’s shrill laughs.

“You good, Lily?” she whispers to her sister, who’s hunched over, her red hair covering her sweaty, cherry red face and eyes slammed shut. Lily nods slightly, not willing to risk a fifty dollar fine by opening her mouth to speak.

“We’re almost back. Two more minutes.”

Petunia looks out the window at the city skyline as they make their way back to campus. Marlene takes to rubbing Lily’s back, and before Petunia can start berating herself for getting this drunk, they’re back outside their building. Dorcas exits politely, wishing the driver a goodnight. Petunia exits the car with a _thank_ _you_ and helps her sister out of the car with delicate precision. Marlene opens the door, says thank you in that loud, wonderful voice of hers, and then promptly trips out of the car, scraping her knee on the cool, black pavement. Dorcas laughs as she helps her up.

“Tuney,” Lily whispers, “I’m alright.”

Petunia, who is holding on to Lily like her life depends on it, loosens her grip a little, but not much. She looks back to see Marlene and Dorcas laughing, Dorcas gives her a thumbs up, so Petunia keeps going, using her swipe to enter the building. She smiles at Remus, the desk assistant for the evening, as he swipes her in, then makes her way down the hallway to the elevator.

It smells like spilled mango-pineapple Svedka, old mac-n-cheese, and vomit.

To think that she could be in bed, sleeping right now.

But she’s not. Instead she’s more than mildly drunk, carrying her more than decently drunk older sister to the elevator, as her definitely more than decently drunk friend is causing a ruckus in the hall that her mostly sober friend is trying to control.

They make it to the elevator; Lily spots a half-eaten cookie in the corner, and Marlene wants to steal the _Caution! Wet Floor_ sign, and nearly does, but Dorcas reminds her of the security camera and how her dreams of being supreme leader could all be for naught if she gets caught stealing. Petunia starts humming “Hungry Like the Wolf” to keep herself from screaming.

Lily, who has seemingly gotten a second wind, is able to stand up without support and joins Petunia in singing the lyrics – Petunia decides that humming is kind of lame and joins her sister, then Dorcas and Marlene start up as well, and all four girls are screaming the words to “Hungry Like the Wolf” as the elevator dings upon its arrival.

They exit the elevator in a sad four part harmony, then fall into a fit of giggles. 

They make their way to their door, and Dorcas is about to turn the key, when Marlene notices that the door perpendicular to their own is cracked, and outpouring from the tiny, one inch gap between the door and its frame is the sweet, sweet sound of Culture Club’s “Karma Chameleon” being sung by their neighbors.

Their neighbors, who somehow, beat them back home. Their neighbors, one of which Lily, for all intents and purposes, is dating, another of which told their RA that Petunia was raging drunk on Halloween and that she thought he was fit (half of that statement is true – she was raging drunk on Halloween – it was Halloween for Christ sake, but their RA, Mulciber, is an ugly toad of a man. Petunia’s pretty sure she ended up breaking Peter’s favorite mug for that), another of which is currently sitting at the desk, abandoned by his friends, and the last of which is Sirius Black, who Petunia fancies against her will.

He’s maybe the hottest guy she’s ever met – very Brando in _Streetcar_ energy. He’s not who she would typically go for – she likes proper, orderly people. Nice people. People who don’t have long, dark hair, dangerous, stormy grey eyes, and chipped black nail polish. People who don’t argue with her about everything, who aren’t shameless flirts. People who don’t skip class and blast “Karma Chameleon” at two in the morning on a Saturday when all she wants to do is drink water and go to bed.

Marlene’s already in the door before anyone can say anything. Lily shortly follows, and Petunia lets out a little sigh as she looks at Dorcas, motioning for her friend to enter in front of her.

Marlene’s shout of ‘ _what’s up bitches!’_ is loud and clear over Culture Club. Petunia closes the door behind her and walks past the cluttered kitchen table and into the living room, bathed in purple light from the LEDs that the boys have put up.

The TV is on, the music video is playing -

“Oh my God, is this MTV or something?” She asks, aloud, knowing that no one will hear her over the music, Lily basically tackling James to the couch so that she can make out with him again, and Dorcas and Marlene yelling at Sirius and Peter. Petunia sits down in the open seat adjacent to the couch that Sirius, Peter, Marlene, and Dorcas are all camped out on.

Her head hurts – from the noise, from the light, from too much booze, and from the pins holding her pale, blonde hair off her neck. She pulls them out, one by one, relishing the relief and admiring the way her it falls long past her shoulders in contrast to the dark, blue sparkly shirt she’s wearing.

She feels pretty – a pushup bra and a sparkly blue cropped V-neck will do that to a girl, she supposes. She feels pretty as she closes her eyes, muting out the noise, the shrieks, the kissing noises coming from James and Lily’s corner.

For a second, all is quiet. She’s forgotten that she’s drunk in the dorm of the guy she fancies but who’ll never like her back. She’s forgotten that Lily is kissing the guy who she’s had a crush on since freshman year. She’s forgotten the bet she made with Peter about who would get home first, and she nearly forgets about Remus, all by his lonesome at the desk.

The peace doesn’t last. “Gasolina” comes on, and the group collectively loses their shit. Even Petunia is moved from her revelry to stand up, as Dorcas grabs her hands, pulling her out of her seat with a force previously unknown to Petunia. And somehow, Petunia, who is currently in her sixth year of German and knows barely any Spanish, finds herself singing along, word for word. Dorcas holds her hands between them, as they spin and hop in a circle to the beat. Petunia’s own pale blue eyes peer into Dorcas’s honey-brown ones. Petunia smiles, tilts her head up, and closes her eyes as Dorcas raises her arm and she spins underneath it. Her eyes are still closed when their hands meet again, only this time they feel different. Petunia chalks it up to the vodka-sodas she consumed.

“ _Mi gata no para de janguear porque_ ,” she sings, moving her head closer to Dorcas. She opens her eyes, expecting to find her laughing friend, instead she is met with the steely, jovial gaze of Sirius Black.

“ _A ella le gusta la gasolina_ ,” he sings back, raising his arm so that she can spin under it. She does, not bothering to hide the smile that erupts on her face. This is so silly, she thinks, dancing like this with Sirius Black to ‘Gasolina,’ of all songs. She hates how good he makes her feel as they twirl across the floor, laughing and singing like she’s not twenty years old, like she’s not a priss, like she’s forgotten that Sirius Black usually acts like he hates her for the aforementioned reason.

She feels young, and carefree, and held, as Sirius’s hands travel to her waist, and gently pick her up in the air as he spins in a circle. Petunia lifts her head up towards the ceiling and laughs, then looks down at Sirius, who’s looking back up at her with a glint in his grey eyes. He’s looking at her like she’s always wanted him too, like he cares for her, like he really, truly likes her, like she’s the prettiest girl in the room – like her curly hay-colored hair isn’t plain, like her blue eyes aren’t a little dim, like her neck isn’t a little too long, and boobs aren’t a little too small for her liking.

She looks at him, really _looks_ – sees the flecks of blue in his dilated eyes, sees the tiny smattering of freckles that reside on the bridge of his nose, sees the way his tongue darts out to lick his too-chapped lips quickly that makes her think that he might be thinking about kissing her –

So, she beats him to it.

She _knows_ she’s going to mortified tomorrow, when she’s hungover and miserable at breakfast at two in the afternoon, but right now, she’s happy – she can feel the thrill of kissing Sirius rush down to her toes. He’s very good – not at all like she would have thought (and, she has thought) – you can tell he’s drunk, as he’s a little sloppy, (and usually she would mind something like that) but she likes it. He’s the right amount of gentle and pushy, and she’s the right amount of aggressive back – as she’s not sure when – if ever – she’s going to have the chance to kiss Sirius like this again.

Right now she feels wanted in a way that she rarely experiences – especially since the guy she has a big, fat embarrassing crush on is kissing her like his life depends on it. For a second, she lets herself imagine that he cares for her in the same way, that she isn’t just his pretty neighbor who gets under his skin, that she’s more than his friend.

It’s nice, she thinks, as she closes her eyes, feels him bite her lower lip. She hums into him, knows her legs are moving, but she’s not sure where to until her back hits a wall. They’re in the hallway, and he’s moved on to kissing her neck. Petunia tilts her head to the side and lets out a quiet, breathy moan. He stops for a second, and she looks back at him in the darkness, he’s outlined in a halo of blue light bleeding out from the living room, and has a boyish grin plastered on his face. She cocks an eyebrow at him.

He shakes his head in a way that makes her think that he can’t believe he’s doing this. She’s not sure that’s a good or a bad thing – she’s inclined to think it’s good.

“Petunia,” he says quickly, as the song changes – she doesn’t give him a chance to finish; she kisses him again, hard. She’s pretty sure he’s giggling as his hands wander. She grabs one of them, and places it on her boob as she tells him to shut up.

“Whatever you say, Petunia,” he murmurs against her neck, “Whatever you say.”

* * *

She’s not sure how long she stands there, back against the wall, kissing Sirius Black, but she knows it was for a while, and she knows that they probably would have been there longer (or moved to a secondary location) if it hadn’t been for Peter yelling for Sirius that Remus had returned to them.

He straightens up, looks her over quickly with a shy and sheepish look on his face – she’s pretty sure he’s debating whether or not to ignore him, but she knows as well as he does, that if he doesn’t go now, Peter will only go looking for them, and as much as it might thrill her to get caught making out with Sirius, she really does _not_ want to deal with his nosy friends.

“Well, go on,” she urges. “Don’t keep him waiting. You know how he gets.”

Sirius grins wolfishly, “Like a rat, our Peter is.”

Petunia laughs. He turns to go, but looks back at her. “Are you coming?”

“I’ll be in in just a sec.” Her hand absentmindedly goes to her hair, which is about as messy as it’s ever going to get.

“Sorry,” he says absentmindedly.

“No you’re not,” she smiles.

“No. I’m not.”

“ _Sirius!”_ comes another shout from the other room.

“That’s my cue,” he motions

She nods. To her surprise, he leaves her with a chaste kiss before he returns to his friends. When she hears the shouts from the others, signaling that Sirius had indeed returned to them, she slides herself down the wall and sits, bringing her fingertips up to trace her lips, which are a little bit swollen. She giggles. _I kissed Sirius Black,_ she thinks.

_I kissed Sirius Black._

_And Sirius Black kissed me._

She sits very still for a second, not sure how to handle this information. She’s never had to deal with reciprocity like this before – what does it mean?

Does he _like_ her or is he just horny or is he just drunk or is he maybe a combination of all of them -

Petunia can’t believe what just happened to her, she sits there, dubiously, fingers continuing to trace the spots where Sirius kissed her.

“Oh God,” she whispers to herself, as she manages to find her bearings and stands up. _Oh God, oh God, oh God,_ she thinks as she walks down the hallway, through the outskirts of the living room, and out the front door. “Oh God,” she mutters as she fishes her key out of her back pocket, unlocks the door, and enters her apartment.

“ _Jesus fuck_ ,” she says, disbelief and astonishment evident in her voice. She makes it to her bedroom, throws her clothes into a pile at the corner of her bed, not bothering to find the hamper. Shrouded in darkness and the tiny bit of light bleeding through the cracks in the shades, she absentmindedly throws on the sweatshirt that hangs off the left rear post of her bed and a pair of sleep-shorts .

Her teeth feel fuzzy, and her makeup is all over her face, but she can’t find it within herself to look in a mirror or waltz to the bathroom, so she lies in bed on her back, on top of the covers. She stares at the ceiling that she can’t even really see and cradles her ornamental but not really stuffed lamb (named Lamby, if you were curious) thinking only of Sirius Black and his charming smile, his pretty face, and his lazy, drunken kisses.

_What have I done?_

* * *

The next day is slow moving. Somehow, her roommates made it back into the room. Petunia isn’t sure how or when they returned, but she wakes to Dorcas in the bed parallel to hers, and when she sneaks out of bed to pee and brush her teeth, she sees Lily and Marlene’s shoes strewn across the hallway.

She and her roommates go for ‘breakfast’ at around one-thirty in the afternoon, as they stop serving breakfast food at the ripe time of two. Marlene and Dorcas try to explain all the shenanigans that Lily got up to last night – as her memory of the evening is a little hazy. Petunia laughs as her sister’s cheeks blaze a rosy color when they start talking about how gross Lily and James were being last night at the bar and back on campus in James’s room. They ask Petunia if she remembers some stuff, and she says no, as she left early – she doesn’t say why, and the girls try their best to fill her in on all she missed:

There was something about Lily peeing and refusing to get off the toilet, Remus almost punching Sirius for opening a bag of his Lays Ruffle chips without asking, and Mulciber joining the party for a brief interlude before shutting the whole thing down.

Petunia listens attentively. She does occasionally add to the conversation, but she does not mention “Gasolina,” she does not mention Sirius kissing her, and she does not mention how, for a brief period of time, she was certain that he liked her back.

* * *

It’s not like Petunia’s friends don’t know that she likes Sirius. They do, and they constantly remind her of the fact, even when she tries to deny it. Petunia is a lot of things, but she has never been an excellent liar. So amidst her adamant declarations of her indifference to Sirius Black, who she has called insufferable, pretentious, and other nastier things on certain occasions (which, she might add, are all true, respectively), her friends have figured out her secret.

Plus, Lily knows her better than anyone in the world. A sure tell that Petunia is into someone is when she argues with them. Constantly. She’s never been a good flirt, and panics. Being an asshole to the guys she likes comes natural to her. She knows Lily thinks it’s hilarious, as Petunia’s done the same thing since she started catching the idle eyes of boys.

Lily is charming – Lily wins the hearts of others by well-wound words, with a melodious giggle, and with her rapturous wit. Petunia bites. Petunia takes boys by the hand and drags them about – her teasing borders on rudeness, her smiles are vicious, and her laughter comes out in shrills – she’s never truly malicious, just looking for a bit of banter – which is easy to understand, but not everyone’s cup of tea.

Petunia is blunt. She’s honest and straight to the point. She has never liked to beat around the bush – in that regard, her sister is kinder – she likes to let people down easy, cushion her blows. Petunia admires her sister for that. Lily is elegant lines upon eloquent lines of poetry – Petunia’s… she’s not that. She sees herself more as a well-researched and written essay on a very niche topic that few people seem to care about.

Not everyone gets her.

Which brings us back to Sirius, dear reader, as he _does_ seem to get her. He ribs her right back – verbal sparring is met in reciprocity – she pretends to be bothered when he argues back at her, but she’s pleased, truly pleased to have someone make her think, to challenge her. Even when she is wrong, he’s never rude – it’s always a dry little joke that Marlene always thinks is a jab, but Petunia knows it’s not.

They are rivals, enemies, in appearance only. Sirius really is one of her good friends.

The issue, Petunia discerns, is exactly that – they are friends. They are friends and Petunia might be in love with him. They are friends and there is no way in hell that it can be reciprocated because one – that is terrifying, and two – it’s just not possible. She is his friend, and she knows he has a type; he likes loud girls, girls that don’t bother to argue with him, or pass out on their living room carpet, girls that look, talk, and feel pretty. Girls like Maire down the hall that she saw him kissing at the bar some time ago (Not that she doesn’t like Maire; she had intro level stats with her last semester, and she was an absolute sweetheart)

She’s his friend, and she’s not his type.

* * *

The week passes.

She has run into Sirius a total of two times, both have been while he was with either Remus or James, and she think she does a good job at not acting weird. She’s just as she usually is, argumentative and a tiny bit stupid because he has that effect on her. If her cheeks are a little more red, or her eyes wander to his lips a little bit more than usual, she doesn’t acknowledge it.

They are friends, having a conversation – even if she is trying her best at flirting.

Even if it isn’t working.

She has yet to break her silence on her Sirius encounter to her friends, but it’s beginning to eat her up inside. She’s in her class, trying to comprehend what her professor is saying about Evangelical voting patterns, but all she can hear is the way Sirius said _Petunia_ after he kissed her, all she can think about is the way his lips felt against her neck, the way his hands danced on her body. She catches herself looking lovelorn more times than she can count, and all she can hope is that Remus, who is in this class with her, doesn’t notice and ask her about it. She’s not sure she’s made of the right constitution to make up a lie about it.

The rustle of books, zippers, and jackets wakes her from her revelry, and she begins to pack her stuff up. She has plans for lunch with Remus and her other friend, Alice, after class, so she hurries and packs up her laptop, puts on her jacket, and rushes out of the classroom, where Remus waits for her at the door.

“Hey,” she greets him, somehow out of breath.

“Hey,” he smiles, “Is this, like, the longest week, or what?”

“Yes,” she groans – _you have no idea –_ “I had like so much busy work due today I wanted to kill myself – like, I don’t think Dr. Binns realizes that I go here to study history, not German.”

“The amount of reading I had to do last night…” Remus breaks off, shaking his head. Petunia understands. They continue chatting about how awful their workloads have been (and will continue to be) as they make their way through the pathway that cuts thorough the quad, then into the student center as they make their way to the Starbucks on campus. She’s sure to text Alice about their change of plans, but she and Remus are having a week, and she deserves a venti iced caramel macchiato, okay.

She does.

They run into Alice, chat in the too-long line, and wait on their food and drinks. Lily runs into them and offers a quick hello and a sorry, as she’s on her way to meet James at the library, which is across campus. They get their food and try to find a table (which they manage to do after a little while, but it’s okay, as it gives her chicken caprese sandwich time to cool down). 

Alice starts talking about something silly her boyfriend, Frank, who graduated last year, did over the weekend, when he came to visit. It’s a cute story, and Petunia finds herself smiling, and, unfortunately, thinking about _her_ weekend.

Remus is in the middle of explaining how he caught James doing something of the same silly caliber for Lily over the weekend, and that’s when Petunia’s mind really delves into hyperdrive – she must make a face, because both Remus and Alice notice.

“Spill,” they say simultaneously.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’ve been acting weird all week,” Remus points out, “normally I wouldn’t say anything, but even Peter picked up on it.”

“Damn,” Alice says, “that’s when you _know_ it’s serious.”

Petunia blanches, “There is _nothing_ wrong. I am just under a lot of stress right now –“

“Don’t even get me started about that stupid look you had on your face in class,” Remus continues.

“There was no such thing –“

“Ooo, do tell,” Alice leans in, taking a sip of her coffee and pushing a lock of her dark, brown hair behind her ear.

“It was like watching the worst Hallmark movie you could ever imagine– like that was in her gaze,” he shudders, “absolutely terrifying.”

“She _def_ met a gentleman friend this weekend.”

Petunia scowls, about to refute the claim, when she remembers that Alice knows that she likes Sirius – she feels the panic rise within her as Alice gives her a knowing look.

“Shut up,” Alice leans even further across the table as she yells, “No way. No fuckin’ way.”

Petunia shrinks in her chair, turning beet red.

“ _Oh my god!”_

“That’s what I said,” she mutters. Alice screams.

“I cannot believe it,” she says, shaking her head, “I cannot believe you kissed Sirius.”

Petunia pales. She feels Remus look at her in shock.

“You _what?”_

“I kissed Sirius Saturday night in your living room – then in your hallway. And then I left because I was over thinking it and Peter was having a meltdown or something, I don’t remember.”

Remus looks at her, incredulous. She shrugs, “Not like it matters or anything. What’s a little bit of kissing between friends?”

Alice snorts, “Except you have been, like, totally into him since freshman year.”

“ _Jesus Christ, Alice_ ,” Petunia says, “do you not know when to shut up.”

Remus looks like he’s unable to process the information he’s just heard. If the secrets of anyone else heart were being spilled right now, she might find this whole instance funny – and like, a little part of her secretly thinks it is, the rest of her, though – the rest of her is mortified and angry.

While James and Sirius are like brothers, Remus is Sirius’s confidante. There was a rumor going on for a little while that they were dating, and if Petunia didn’t know them so well, she would have believed it too. But Sirius doesn’t keep secrets from Remus, and she doesn’t think Remus keeps secrets from Sirius.

It’s not that she’s worried about ridicule – she’s trying to come to terms with being rejected by Sirius. She’s already thought of a million scenarios in her head where it happens.

She has only entertained the idea that he actually likes her back once, and it was just so ridiculous, she knocked it right out of her head.

“You,” he says, slowly, “kissed Sirius. Sirius Black.”

“Yes. Like, several times. He even touched my boob.”

Alice laughs and offers Petunia a high-five. Petunia high-fives her back, because that might as well happen.

“You kissed Sirius, and I am _only just_ hearing about it.”

“We have established that, Remus,” Alice says.

“I just. Wow,” he shakes his head, “I didn’t see that coming.”

“C’mon. It’s not like it isn't that far-fetched. And they like so totally have this _When Harry Met Sally_ thing going on. I support it,” Alice says.

“Thanks,” Petunia says.

“You’re welcome,” Alice says cheerfully, then takes another sip of her coffee. Remus looks like he’s about to say something else, but quickly shuts his mouth.

“So,” Alice changes the subject, “Are you guys going out tonight.”

“Why the fuck not,” Petunia shrugs. Alice laughs.

“Attagirl. I was thinking the sheer shirt with stars, but I don’t know….”

* * *

Petunia likes going out on Thursdays. It’s not usually as crowded as it is during the weekends, and she doesn’t have class on Fridays – knowing that her friends will have to get up for class in the morning while she gets to sleep in, well, it’s a little vindictive, but it makes her feel a little better about herself, makes her feel like she can have a bit more fun, that she doesn’t have to be the mom friend for once.

So on this fine Thursday evening in February, Petunia finds herself drunk, crammed between Alice, Dorcas, and her other friend, Mary on the dancefloor. Alice checks her phone as the song changes, and Petunia takes the last sip of her vodka cran.

“That was Remus,” Alice yells over the noise, “He’s over by the bar.” Petunia grabs Alice’s hand, then turns to Mary and Dorcas to let them know where she and Alice are going. The move works out anyway, because Petunia is in need of a new drink.

Alice and Petunia make a pitstop at the bar, Alice orders a tequila shot because she hates herself? Petunia isn’t sure why, honestly, but she orders herself another old, reliable vodka cran. She thinks she spots Sirius over a few heads – he and Remus are in the crowd near the edge of the dancefloor.

“ _Sirius_!” Alice shouts; he doesn’t hear her, but Remus must, as he shoots his hand up in the air and waves for them to come over. Petunia is dragged by Alice, but she doesn’t mind. Remus grows about thirty times more affectionate when he’s drunk, and quickly captures both Alice and Petunia in a hug. From over Remus’s shoulder, she catches Sirius’s gaze; he’s amused, and Petunia makes a stupid face then waves. He waves back.

Remus lets them go, then Sirius comes up to the three of them. Alice and Remus are deep in conversation, and she shrugs. She’s pretty sure if she was sober she’d see this as an interesting and kind of terrifying development, but right now – she doesn’t really care. She takes another sip of her drink, uses her free hand to grab Sirius’s free hand, and spins herself.

He laughs.

“You’re something else, Evans.”

“That’s what you call my sister,” she pouts, pulling him deeper into the crowd.

“That’s what I call both of you,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“I like it when you say my name,” she admits, “ _Petunia.”_

“Petunia,” he says, repeating after her.

“Yes. Petunia,” she says solemnly.

They look at each other for a second. His face looks so beautiful in the light; his eyes meet hers, and she thinks that this could be a moment if the song playing in the background wasn’t “Hotel Room Service.” She’s trying not to laugh between flicking her eyes from his own to his lips – but she catches him trying not to laugh as well, and she bursts out into a fit of giggles. He follows not soon after. She gets bumped by some sweaty guy behind her right into Sirius’s chest. She looks up at him, leans in next to his ear, and lets out a tiny breath. She can feel him shiver – then she starts whispering the words in his ear.

He starts laughing in earnest again. She steps back, and he grins at her – a shit eating grin, and starts shouting the words and jumping in the flashing lights. Petunia takes another sip of her drink and joins in.

It’s fun – and it almost makes her forget that she wants nothing more than to kiss him.

* * *

She’s not sure for how long she and Sirius are dancing, but it’s for a while. She knows at one point she berates Sirius for knowing all the words to “Bodak Yellow,” and they go back and forth on that topic for a while, they make fun of a couple chad-looking guys from her micro class, and he complains about the lack of good music.

“You were the one excited about ‘Bodak Yellow!’”

“Yeah, but one good song doesn’t make the whole set good!” he shouts into her ear.

“What would you pick next –“

“’Gasolina,’” he says, surely, “without a doubt.”

Petunia agrees, but then she realizes what he’s said, and she looks up at him – he’s suddenly stopped jumping and is looking at her with a grin that might be laced with fondness, but she doesn’t want to assume. Unless -

“Are you making fun of me?” she asks, the question coming from a place of doubt. She suddenly feels small, her black tube top suddenly too tight, her skirt suddenly squeezing her, her sturdy, black heeled boots, wobbly – she shakes it out though. Petunia doesn’t let people treat her as the butt of a joke. Vernon Dursley tried, and Severus Snape before that – it didn’t end well for either of them, “because, if you are –I’ll have you know that _you_ kissed me back. And kissed me again. When you really think about it, it was really you doing all the work, so if anything, if you’re making fun of me, you’re making fun of yourself –“

She doesn’t notice him shaking his head fondly, but she does notice how soft his lips are when he kisses her. If this was a movie, she’d expect this kiss to be hungry, passionate – it’s soft. It’s confirmation that maybe – just maybe – he does like her, not just as a friend, but as something more. As someone he can joke with, argue with, laugh with. Her hands lie flat against his chest, and his hands hold her face sweetly.

It’s wonderful – it’s everything she’s ever wanted. She softly bites down on his bottom lip, winding her arms around his neck, drawing him closer. She can feel him smiling against her, and the kiss is deepened, his hands snake down her back, resting near the waistline of her skirt. It feels good, to be held like this. She bites his lip again, this time getting a tiny moan out of him.

“ _Petunia_ ,” he says, loud enough that she can hear it over the music; he kisses her neck, then moves back up to her lips.

“You’re killing me,” he mutters. Her brain is too caught up in the whole _Sirius-Black-Is-Kissing-Me_ thing to deal with that at the moment, and it doesn’t help that being so near him makes her feel like a dying star. He keeps muttering words against her neck, in her ear, across her lips – about how pretty she is, how much he loves her hair, her eyes, her neck –

She thinks he might mean it.

He kisses her deeply, and she closes her eyes, lets the music and the lights and the sweaty bodies disappear from around her and just allows herself the moment –

Lets herself feel wanted and loved.

She thinks it might be real – it might be intentional. It might be reciprocated.

 _I love you,_ she thinks.

“I love you,” she says, looking up into his wide, grey eyes, at the grin breaking out on his face.

He looks like he’s about to say something in return, when she feels a strong grip on her wrist – it’s Dorcas –

“There you are! We’ve been looking all over for you. Alice was ready to go, like, twenty minutes ago –“

“Sorry –“

“It’s fine, we’re just going to miss the uber, so _let’s go_.”

It’s not a suggestion. Dorcas pulls her out of the crowd before she’s able to say goodbye, before she’s able to hear what Sirius had to say.

She hopes he knows she looked back at him.

* * *

Petunia didn’t realize how drunk she was – everything is spinning. Her eyes are closed and she’s praying that she doesn’t get sick on the way back. That would be gross, and she also does not have the money to pay for the fine. Also Dorcas is in her ear telling her not to throw up, and that’s a very strong motivator.

Whatever.

If anything, trying not to crank a vom in the back of this Jeep Cherokee is keeping her mind off the fact that she told Sirius that she was in love with him.

It’s all about perspective.

* * *

She does not get sick in the uber. As soon as she gets out of the uber, she stumbles to the shrubs in front of her building and gets sick.

It’s maybe the second most mortifying thing she’s done today. Her friends help her inside. Dorcas and Marlene, who did not join them on their excursion this evening, help take care of her until she feels well enough to stand up, brush her teeth, and get to bed.

(If she has a fight with Marlene about which pants she wants to wear to bed, that’s no one’s business but her own).

She wakes up the next morning alone, thirsty, and absolutely mortified. She’s got about six hundred texts from Alice, a nice text from her sister hoping that she’s feeling well (and if she isn’t, she left some stuff for her on the kitchen counter). There’s one from Remus asking if she got home safe, and a few from Dorcas, all from the night before –

When she wasn’t paying attention because she and Sirius were kissing in the middle of a fucking bar, and she had the audacity to admit that she’s in love with him.

She groans, rolls from her left to her right side, then throws a pillow over her head.

* * *

Petunia spends most of Friday in bed. When her roommates come back from class, they try to get her to go out again, she respectfully declines. It’s only Dorcas who doesn’t push her. She’s tired and irritable and almost rips Lily’s ponytail out of her head when she brings up how _some people_ might want to see her tonight. Even if it’s true and Lily isn’t just being a menace, Petunia wants to crawl into a bog and just stay there forever. She would rather die than lay eyes upon Sirius again.

Her roommates go out. She stays in and watches re-runs of _It’s Always Sunny_ on the TV in the living room. She falls asleep on the couch.

* * *

Petunia spends Saturday working on an essay for her history class and scrolling through Instagram. Her roommates have decided to stay in today, as the weather outside is abysmal – it’s snowing something fierce; she knows the roads are going to be trashed today and all throughout the night, so she and her roommates plan a night in – Lily’s got a big box of wine in the fridge, Marlene has a bottle of vodka in the freezer -

She won’t be drinking though. Her stomach still feels a little sour, and the mere thought of alcohol makes her want to be sick all over again.

The day rolls by slowly, but the evening comes; Lily makes spaghetti Bolognese for them all, Petunia’s in charge of cleanup, then they put on their comfiest jammies, and crash on the couch. Dorcas puts _Clueless_ on the TV via HDMI cable, and Marlene pours Lily, herself, and Dorcas a tall glass of wine. Petunia’s fine with her pouch of Capri Sun.

About halfway through the movie, there’s a knock at the door; Lily has Dorcas pause it (Dorcas tells her to fuck off, then completes the action anyway), then runs to the door. There are voices, voices that Petunia recognizes.

 _Why,_ she asks, _why me?_

Lily comes waltzing in the room with their neighbors in tow – James follows her like a lost dog, like she’s his whole world. It’s gross. Remus follows, looking more cool and less pathetic. Then comes Peter, in all his chubby, blonde haired excellence – clearly just happy to be here, then lastly, comes Sirius.

He looks tired. His hair is in his face, slightly – like it should have been brushed but he couldn’t be bothered. He’s got a Rolling Stones tee-shirt on, because he’s pretentious and cool and likes older things, just like she does. It looks wrinkled, like it needs to be ironed. She analyzes it, then looks up at his face again. She notices him looking at her; she turns away, back towards the television that Lily has made Dorcas unpause.

The guys make themselves at home on the chairs or the floor. Petunia, who found herself on the couch all by herself, is now sharing it with Sirius, because God hates her or something.

Cant she just avoid him, like, is that too much to ask?

Apparently, it is.

They share _hello’_ s; she can’t look him in the eye. She can’t sit still. She feels too close to him; feels herself sitting straighter, does her best not to look at him, which makes it look more obvious that she’s not looking at him, which she’s pretty sure makes him look at her more than he should.

She tries to think about how cute Paul Rudd looks in the film, but fails. All she can think about is Sirius complimenting her as he kissed her, about how she felt wanted, about how she told him she loved him.

She wishes she was in that bog right about now.

A few more agonizing minutes pass.

“Can I talk to you for a minute,” he whispers in her ear. She nods, _yes,_ still not looking at him.

“Meet me in the hallway,” he says. Then stands up and briskly exits the room. Petunia waits a few minutes, calms herself down, and mentally prepares herself for death.

She stands up, grabs her half empty Capri Sun, and goes to find Sirius.

* * *

She finds him outside her bedroom door. He’s leaning against the wall with grace, and she feels like he needs a cigarette hanging from his lips to really set the scene. He looks really pretty – she fights the urge to kiss him.

“I’m sorry that I’ve made you uncomfortable,” he says.

“ _What_?”

“I know you’ve been avoiding me, or acting weird, or whatever, and I just wanted to say I’m sorry. For making you feel like you need to avoid me. I just,” he sighs, running his hand over his face, “I have liked you for a while. And I know we’re friends – “

Petunia feels laughter bubble out from behind her lips – she tries to cover her mouth to stop it, but she can’t

“It’s not funny,” he says, exasperated.

“Sirius,” she says, smiling, “It is though.” He looks doubtful; she somehow summons all her courage – all her doubts are flying out the window all because of his silly apology, “I’m not kidding! I‘ve had a crush on you since like, my first year here when you laughed at something I said about Lily. All my friends knew it – and like, yeah it’s a little embarrassing, but I really thought there was a snowball’s chance in hell that you were ever going to like me back. Then I just, jumped you last Saturday and you kissed me back? And my brain short circuited, okay? It short circuited.”

“Look, you know me. I know my worth but sometimes it’s hard being Lily’s shadow and sometimes that stuff gets to me – I feel like I’m not smart enough, or kind enough, or pretty enough – and I just, never thought that I’d be enough for you to notice me like _that_. So I was confused and mortified,” she says, he gives her an incredulous look, “because we are friends. My head was like, going to explode if I saw you.”

“Then I ran into you at PBR and I just, forgot everything because you smiled at me, and laughed with me, and held me; no one makes me feel like you do – and for a second I believed that you felt the same about me and that’s why I told you I loved you –“

“Hey,” he says, gently, his hand cradles her chin, tilting her face up so that she can properly look at him, “I do like you back. You are enough – you’re beautiful, and smart, and a pain in my fucking ass, but you _are_ enough. And I did notice you – I do notice you every time you walk into the room. I want nothing else than to be near you – to talk to you, to watch you laugh at something I’ve said.”

“You’re my friend, Petunia,” he urges, “and I do feel the same about you. I love you.”

His other hand finds her own, their fingers wind together and she smiles at him, watching his eyes fondly crinkle with happiness and with what she now knows is tenderness. She has never felt like this before, no longer like a dying star, but a new one – like all the parts of her are coming together – she feels whole in a way in which she has only imagined –

Sirius kisses her, and she shines, bright and luminous, like the center of a planetary system. It’s soft, and new – not like the real, but uncertain ones felt.

She’s kissing Sirius Black tenderly, like she’s finally able to stand on her own two feet, like there’s a well-worn path she’s to take, not alone, like this is the first of many subsequent kisses. The minutes fly by – she’s too happy to care.

He stops kissing for a moment, then: “You told me you were in love with me in the middle of PBR?”

She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, “Maybe,” He gives her a skeptical look, “Okay, fine yes; if it makes you feel better, I got sick afterward.”

“Like I wouldn’t have done the exact same thing,” he laughs, “What a pair we make.”

“Quite the pair,” she replies, then takes a loud last sip of her Capri Sun.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are the bees knees!


End file.
